


Five Little (Huge) Problems

by queen_of_hells_bells



Series: The Five-Step Guide [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A lot of them - Freeform, Arguing, But not on purpose, Cas is kinda a dick, Dean Has Self-Worth Issues, I APOLOGIZE, I promise, Jealousy, Language, M/M, Michael's really a good guy, Teacher Dean, a bit - Freeform, anyway, bookstore, but he cares, but you read fanfiction so you're probably cool with that, for how shitty this is, for real, mostly angst, possibly abusive relationship, so there's that, sorry about that, that's what the rating's for, they say fuck a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:59:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3330260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_of_hells_bells/pseuds/queen_of_hells_bells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Cas are (technically) back together, but they have a couple of problems (five huge ones, especially), and quite a bit of shit goes down.</p>
<p>This is definitely the heaviest of the series, certainly shouldn't be read as a stand-alone, but if you really wanted to confuse yourself, I guess you could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Little (Huge) Problems

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MirkatManor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirkatManor/gifts).



One: They were busy.

No matter how much they tried to deny it, it had been three years and a little bit since Cas and Dean had even _spoken_ , let alone tried to be in a relationship, and they had both changed. For one, Cas had spent a considerable amount of time catching up on the last sixty or so years of pop culture, and now knew almost more than Dean did. He also had a lot more work to do at the shop, what with the book clubs and little kid reading circles he’d started, and since he’d had no other commitments, he’d never bothered to hire any help. He was always busy.

Dean’s life, though, had changed even more than Cas’ had. He had D&D nights every other Friday, LARPing every other month, events at Lili’s school, and he stayed late at school at least once a week to try out new recipes with Benny. At first, he’d tried to invite Cas to come along with him to at least the D&D nights, but Cas’ book club met on Friday nights, so that was out. Cas had then tried to insinuate himself into cooking afternoons at school, which was just uncomfortable. It wasn’t that Dean didn’t _want_ Cas there, it was just that him and Benny had developed a rhythm to the way they cooked around each other, and Cas just didn’t seem to fit into it.

So instead they would just hang out as much as possible on weekends and whenever they could see each other during the week: Dean would drop by the store for lunch, bringing stories of his colleagues and his little nerdlet friends; Cas would drop by the school in the mornings and afternoons to drop off or pick up Dean, sometimes bringing a pie or coffee.

It wasn’t perfect or anywhere close, but it was a system, and for now it would have to do.

 

Two: Dean still didn’t trust him.

It was clear in his eyes when he looked at Cas. Sure, Dean might love him, but there was no way in hell that he trusted him. It was in the way his eyes would track Cas around the room, watching his interactions with the bartender and the patrons. It was in the way he would look awkwardly off into the distance whenever someone flirted with Cas instead of staking his claim, as though giving Cas the chance to pop off with this random floozy. It was in the way he leaned into Cas’ embraces, grabbing onto him and absorbing as much of Cas’ scent and feel as he could, as if he would never get it again. It was the way Dean’s eyes would skitter nervously to Cas before introducing him as ‘my boyfriend’ or ‘my partner.’ It was the way his face would tighten slightly at any sort of compliment or kind word, looking for the lie before relaxing into the safety of it not existing. It was he kept Cas at arms length, not letting him any closer than a hug or a kind word, just in case.

 

Three: Dean tried.

It had just switched on one day: Dean lavishing touches and affection on Cas, fixing his favorite meals on the nights they were able to spend together, pushing their make out sessions to the extreme before Cas would pull away, even limiting his time with his friends, and it was somehow worse than when Dean had held Cas at arms length. Because Cas got the feeling that Dean did was doing it out of desperation, as though he’d suddenly had some kind of crazy realization that if he didn’t show Cas how much he loved him, Cas would just up and leave again. It was infuriating.

And it was made worse by that there seemed to be nothing that Cas could do to make it stop. He stopped suggesting that they go out to a bar, since Dean’s ‘affection’ always seemed to be worsened after he saw Cas interacting with, well, pretty much anyone else; but Dean took his suggestion with offense, assuming that Cas didn’t want to be seen with him. (Not that he said as much, he just thought it really, _really_ loudly.) So Cas tried to involve himself in Dean’s activities with the Nerd Club, thinking that if he could maybe get Dean back into D &D nights regularly, and see that Cas got along with his friends, that he would calm down; all Dean did was freak out because he didn’t want Cas to be more busy because he’d had to move his book club. As he (often) told Cas, “I don’t want you to be inconvenienced because of me.” Cas had tried to explain that Dean could never be an inconvenience, and that he would climb the highest mountains and swim the deepest seas for Dean, the man insisted, and so book club stayed and Dean only went to D&D night every other week, using the off week to cook lavish meals and clean the apartment.

Dean was caring for Cas, trying to make sure that he wasn’t an inconvenience, and just basically trying to convince himself that it wouldn’t end up mattering what he did, because Cas was just going to love him anyway. And it was destroying him.

 

Four: This happened.

“Dean.” The man in question looked up from the glass bowl he’d been slaving over, looking almost guilty. “Can we talk?” Dean’s Adams-apple bobbed up and down quickly, and he looked away, licking his lip and heaving a quiet sigh before nodding. His eyes stayed locked on the ground in as he leaned back against the wood counter top, clearly unwilling to move. Cas sighed. “Dean…it’s just…this isn’t…”

“Just spit it the fuck out, Cas.” Dean’s voice was heavy, like he’d just dropped a block of granite onto Cas’ face. His eyes never left the floor. “No need to be shy or gentle about it, just hit me with it.”

Cas sighed again, becoming annoyed with how snippy Dean was being. “This isn’t working.”

Dean’s whole body stiffened at the comment, clearly donning his mental battle armor and preparing for a fight. He waved a hand at the mixing bowl. “I dunno, man. I mean, sure, I’ve never actually _tried_ a chocolate-nutella-marshmallow fluff pie before, but I think it’s coming allow pretty well and there’s--”

“Not the damn pie, Dean!” The words hung in the kitchen, the silence only broken again when Dean’s hand slapped back onto his leg. Even that generally neutral sound seemed dejected. “I just…can we _please_ talk about what’s going on with…with _us_? Because we never do, and I just feel like this isn’t working and you keep pulling away and baking with Benny and having D &D nights and all I want is to be with you, really, but you won’t _let_ me!”

“I won’t _let_ you? _Excuse_ me?” Dean stepped away from the counter, eyes now far from the floor and latched on Cas’ face, thick with a fiery rage. “Mr. ‘I don’t love you I never have’ is claiming that I won’t _let_ him be in a relationship with me because I need some fucking time to adjust to his being back in my life? That is just...just fucking _awesome_.”

Perhaps, looking back on it, Cas’ response wasn’t his best. “That was three fucking _years_ ago. You’re _still_ on that? Let it _go_ , Dean. It was a dumb thing I said because I was trying to protect you--”

“Protect _me_? You were trying to _protect me_? _That’s_ why you lied? _That’s_ why you broke my fucking heart? Sorry, my bad. See, when you explained yourself, it sounded an awful lot like you were just protecting your own fucking self, Cas _tiel_. So you’re just gonna have to excuse me for feeling like it was totally a fair thing to bring up in this kind of argument.”

Cas puffed himself up to the same basic height as Dean, getting up close to his face to better express his frustration. “Yes I was trying to protect you: protect you from fucking _me_. I’m _poison_ , Dean. This--” he gestured around the kitchen wildly, “This exactly. _This_ is what I was trying to protect you from!”

“From _what_ , Cas? From being fucking _happy_? Cause you did a great job.”

“You’re _happy_ like this? With the…the _silence_ , and the _looks_ , and…and the…the _fighting_? This makes you _happy_?”

Dean’s eyes flashed a little hurt at Cas’ words, but he was nothing if not stubborn and there was no way in hell he was going to back down now. “I’m happy with _you_ , Cas! I’m sorry that maybe I have a few trust issues, but you can definitely admit that you have at least a _little_ bit of blame there, and I’m sorry that it’s taking me so fucking long to get over it, but I’m _trying_ , and if you can’t deal with that, then…then you should just fucking go.”

With that he stepped back, back to the counter, and held it as though it was a lifeline. His eyes held Cas’ for a second before they dropped to the floor and he turned back to his mixing bowl.

Cas stared at Dean’s back for a second, not sure what to do. He couldn’t leave, he couldn’t do that again, but Dean clearly didn’t want him to keep standing here silently. He sighed.

“Dean.” The man’s back stiffened, but he kept mixing determinedly. “Dean, I love you. I need you to understand that. I should have told you every day, and I plan on telling you every day from now on. But I’m going to unstake my claim on you. You need to learn to trust again--”

“I _do_ trust you!” Dean’s words were frustrated and tear-tight, his eyes flashing desperate fear as he looked up at Cas. Cas just shook his head sadly.

“You _don’t_. You _think_ you do, but all you’re doing is trying to convince me to love you again, even though I really already do. You don’t trust me at all, Dean; you don’t trust anyone.” He waved off Dean’s attempt to speak and stiffened himself, preparing the words he really didn’t want to say. “And you’ll never be able to if you’re always trying to make me happy. If I’m the only…if I’m still in your life. So I’m just gonna go, and when you feel like you want me to come back, let me know. But just know…I love you. More than anything. And because of that, I just want you to be happy. So do whatever makes you happy, okay?”

There was a moment of calm intensity, with Cas just staring at Dean, until the man just nodded slightly, and Cas turned and let himself out of Dean’s apartment, leaning his back against the door for a moment and pretending he couldn’t hear Dean in his kitchen, crying quietly.

 

Five: Michael.

Tall, dark hair, striking eyes, tan, fit, engaging, brilliant, funny, determined, and, most importantly, a young and successful CEO of a Fortune 500 company. Michael Novak always got exactly what he wanted, whether it was a book or an important deal with the most lucrative businessman in the world. Michael could make or break a person’s entire life just by signing a few papers, and he could get anyone he wanted—man or woman—just by smiling and chatting with them for a few moments. It was lucky for the world that there weren’t many things in life the man wanted, and even fewer things that he decided he _had_ to have: had he decided to, he could have been president of the United States in a matter of months, and probably president of Earth given a few more years. However, just now, at this particular moment, there was one thing that Michael Novak wanted very, _very_ badly: a tall man with broad shoulders, spiky golden brown hair, eyes that would make the Wizard of Oz swoon, and the prettiest pair of lips that side of the Mississippi.

Michael Milton also happened to be in town to visit his most favorite cousin, the baby of the family, Castiel Milton.

**Author's Note:**

> First, allow me to apologize DEEPLY for how long it took me to post this. I had no idea where to go with the series, but I hope that you accept this as an...well, acceptable re-starting point.
> 
> Second, If you wanna leave kudos/comments/whatever else you can leave on a story, that would be so very much appreciated. (Especially if you have ideas of what to do next. jk. nrt.)
> 
> Third, PLEASE LET ME APOLOGIZE AGAIN. I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH AND I DIDN'T WANT TO HURT YOU BY NOT POSTING BUT THEN I DID AND I'M SORRY.
> 
> Fourth, I love all of you. You're all amazing, especially for reading this after the longest fucking delay I've ever had.
> 
> Fifth, idek anymore. Just...bye.


End file.
